


Missing Scenes from Better Together

by nerdlife4eva



Series: Better Together: A Miraculous Saga [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bee Miraculous, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Fox Miraculous, Post-Canon, new heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/pseuds/nerdlife4eva
Summary: One-shot showing the missing scenes from Better Together when Chloe meets her kwami and becomes Queen Bee and when Alya meets her kwami and becomes Volpina. (This was originally not included for pacing purposes but some people have asked to see it so I am posting it, unedited).If I end up having other missing scenes, I will add them.If you want to read/support the full story it can be found here:Better Together





	1. Chloe Buzzes

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Twitter: nerdlife4eva or Tumblr: n3rdlif343va if you want to talk about this story or anything MLB! I love this show and everything the creators are doing with it :).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is very short, as it was cut from the original story line and never fully developed or edited. It occurs immediately after Adrien leaves Chloe's penthouse in Chapter 8. 
> 
> Originally, this was included in the story, but it felt premature to delve into Chloe's POV as it isn't until Chapter 16 that the story lines split. I didn't want to give anything away (or tackle 4 points of view so early) and pulled it. Forgive any errors and the fact that it isn't as fleshed out as the rest of the scenes.

Chloe stood at the corner of the long windows which made up one wall of the penthouse that she shared with her father. Below the people looked like ants, moving busily from destination to destination, all seemingly with more purpose than Chloe could find in her own life. Spotting Adrien’s blond mop of hair dodging through the crowd, she sighed acknowledging once again that she was completely alone.

Not that she wasn’t used to it. Her father worked long hours, both as a prominent business owner and as the Mayor of Paris, making it home a handful of nights a week for dinner. Mostly Chloe ate by herself or with her butler, unless she could convince Sabrina to stay. There wasn’t much these days that Chloe didn’t do by herself. Pushing away from the window, she moved back to the couch that Adrien had vacated.

It was rare that Adrien initiated contact with her nowadays, having a host of new friends to occupy his time. She missed the days of riding big wheels through the hallways of the hotel, sneaking cookies from the kitchen, and hiding from their mothers in all the nooks and carnies of the extravagant building. They had been best friends, uncaring about the roles of boys and girls, and if Chloe let herself think about it for too long her chest would begin hurting, aching with the desire to be back in a time when the world made sense. A time before their mothers had disappeared along with their friendship.

Flopping down, in a way that no one in her school would believe was possible from her, Chloe slowly scanned the empty room. She had no desire to worry about any of the homework she had been neglecting and it was still hours until she would need to meet up with Sabrina. Boredom took over, bringing her forward in a frustrated groan.

In her forward motion, the out-of-place box on the coffee table caught her eye. Excited, assuming her father had left her a present to make up for his current absence, Chloe flung herself onto the floor, clutching the box in her hands. The box was black with red hints along the creases. When she rotated it in the light, she could see the design peeking from underneath the shined exterior. If the box was this exquisite on the outside, Chloe could only imagine what was on the inside. Hurriedly flipping it open, she let out a blood-curdling scream as a tiny body hurled itself into the room.

“What on earth are you screaming about?” the voice, although high-pitched, had an elegant, royalty-like air to it.

“Um… I…” Chloe reached behind her head, grabbing a pillow from the couch and swinging it wildly into the side of the thing floating in mid-air. When it hit the ground with a thud, Chloe leapt over the couch, running for the cover of her bedroom. Once inside, she slammed the door, bracing her back against it and breathing hard.

“Rude,” the voice was directly in front of her face, attached to a tiny bobbing blur of yellow and black. “You really should be more polite. Especially to magical beings.”

“Magical what now?” Chloe squealed, sinking down her door to crawl through her bedroom. “I am polite, you scared me.” Pausing, staring hard down at her floor, Chloe shook her head. “I’m having a meltdown. This is a delusion. And I’m talking to it.” A sharp pull of her ponytail caused her to cry out as she was dumped onto her back.

“I’m not a delusion!” The creature was hovering above Chloe’s face again and she found herself clamping her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. “I’m insulted, but certainly not a delusion.” Huffing, the tiny floating body flew away from her vision.

Counting back from one hundred, Chloe gradually raised her body, peeking around the edge of her bed to spy the flying invader primping in front of her vanity mirror. _What kind of magical creature primps?_ Chloe thought wildly to herself.

“I’m a kwami. My name is Abeille, and we are teammates now,” even in short clipped sentences, the speech was delivered with shocking grace.

“A whati?” Chloe ventured from the corner of her bed, still crawling on hands and knees. “Partners in what exactly?” Her hands were searching for something else to throw at the tiny weird being currently examining her make up collection.

Sighing, Abeille turned from the mirror. “I hate newbies,” she stated with air of unadulterated disdain, “I haven’t had to deal with a newbie in years. Why would the guardian do this to me?” The last question was a wail.

“Maybe, if you stopped whining and speaking in cryptic words and actually explained something, I would have a better idea as to what is going on.” Chloe was on her feet now, frustration at being talked down to by anyone fueling her confidence. “Unless, you know, you have no idea what is going on.” It was the arrogant voice that Chloe used when talking to her classmates, an ironclad shield against criticism and rejection.

“Listen, little lady,” Abeille flew into Chloe’s face, poking her nose until Chloe sat on the edge of her own bed. “I’m going to give you a lot of information and you are going to listen. If it is one thing I hate, it is re-explaining everything over and over.” The bossy attitude had Chloe’s back going straight, but she couldn’t help her admiration for the fiery commands coming from the tiny mouth. It was a skill not unlike Chloe’s own. Opting to nod instead of speak, Chloe settled back trying to follow every piece of information being thrown at her.

* * *

 

The sight in her full-length mirror was startling. In place of her normal clothes, there was a black and yellow jumpsuit, so tight to her skin that it moved as if it was adhered to her. Hanging from her hip was her weapon, and as she tossed the string-anchored bulb up and down in her hand, Chloe desperately tried to remember all of Abeille’s instructions. Dropping it against her hip, Chloe returned to the mirror to complete the analysis of her look.

The ponytail she normally wore had shifted on her head, decorated with an ornate hair comb which Abeille had called a miraculous. _Such a weird word_ , Chloe thought, ghosting her fingers over the comb again. Somehow, Abeille had disappeared into the hair comb after Chloe had uttered her instructed words. The transformation hadn’t been painful, even with Chloe’s resistance to being tossed around by the magical whirlwind in her room. It had left her looking like a real superhero and Chloe could feel the excitement building inside of her. Excitement that was compounded by the knowledge that soon she would be the new teammate of Ladybug and Cat Noir. Her squeaks were barely contained as she called for her driver, telling him to take the car around to the garage and to keep the interior partition closed. Her eyes never left her form in the mirror, moving in twists to examine every part of her. She was very thankful that her transformation didn’t bring about a stinger like the one Abeille had; there had been a fearful glance at her own backside when the possibility crossed her mind.

The last thing she needed was a name. She had stared at her kwami in confusion, honestly wondering why anyone would choose the names “Ladybug” and “Cat Noir” when they could have picked anything. Considering her reflection in the mirror, Chloe decided she wasn’t going to wuss out and call herself “Bee.” She wanted something more exciting than that, something that fit her excellence more appropriately. Abeille had hinted that she should keep the name bee-themed, implying that it had always been that way in the past. A smile spread across Chloe’s face, cheeks raising the mask as if was a part of her skin. If it had to be bee-themed, there was only one name Chloe could think of that would perfectly convey her importance.

Dropping a note to her father, just in case he actually came looking for her, Chloe sauntered from the penthouse, taking the stairs to the back parking garage and sliding into the waiting car. Changing her voice slightly, as she assumed she was supposed to do, she gave the driver instructions, pressing the button the lock the partition in place. Jiggling her foot, the new Queen Bee anxiously watched the Paris skyline as she headed to meet her teammates.


	2. Alya Flashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the missing scene wherein Alya meets Trixx. This one is only slightly more developed than the Chloe scene, being the one that I had contemplated leaving in. This scene occurs immediately after Marinette leaves Alya's room in Chapter 8.

The rain pounded her windows, flashing spurred from the heavens illuminating the room every few minutes. Huddled on her floor, Alya stared first at the map spread over several feet of her carpet and second at the red yarn connections posted on her wall between akumas and their causes. There was an overwhelming amount of data to consider and Alya’s head had been spinning from the moment she woke up. Except for the occasional bathroom break and her mother’s insistent that she eat, Alya had remained closed off in her room, determined to break through the stubborn walls in her mind.

Marinette’s presence had been a welcome distraction, although her best friend’s line of questioning had brought back memories Alya had determinedly shoved away. Lady Wi-Fi had been a part of her, but it was never going to be a part that she was proud of. Sliding a folder from under her bed, Alya flicked over the 8x10 pictures that her contact at the Paris Police Department had provided her. Dressed in blue and white, hair wild, eyes wilder, she own visage glared back at her from the glossy paper. At the back of the folder was a disc, one that she had never been able to bring herself to watch, of the day she was akumatized. According to her contact, she had been one of the easier ones to record, since she spent most of her time broadcasting her intentions to the entire city.

She hadn’t actually lied to Marinette, even though part of her felt guilty as if she had. The day she was akumatized was familiar to her in a way that she would be familiar with the fading memory of a dream. The important parts were there, but they were disjointed, as if someone had spliced a tape together to remove sections of the show. Alya had tried to recall the memories, even going so far as to try to hypnotize herself on camera, but nothing worked. Pieces were missing to the puzzle, causing her frustration and disappointment in herself.

Shoving up from the floor, disc firmly grasped in her hand, Alya settled back in front of her computer. Breathing deeply, she willed her hand to slide the disc into the drive, moving her mouse to hit play. In her shaky, distracted movements, her right hand struck the black box she never saw, causing it to hit the ground, bouncing on the carpet and snapping open.

The scenes playing on her computer were nauseating. Alya groaned covering her face with her hand. She always wanted to be a superhero, not a supervillain and it was painful to watch as she ran through Paris freezing anyone who got in her way.

“Is that you?” The question had an edge to it, spoken in an oddly accented voice.

“Yeah,” Alya nodded. Her hand froze over her mouse, the hand covering her face sliding down, pulling her glasses with it. At a glacier’s pace, Alya turned her head making eye contact with the tiny fox hovering just above her right shoulder. Snapping back into her desk chair, Alya shoved her glasses back up her face. “What in the f-”

“Heroes don’t curse, Alya,” the oversized ears flicked back and forth as the little fox spoke, a sassy hand on her hip as she waggled a finger at Alya.

Using her feet to scooch her chair backwards, Alya kept her eyes on the orange creature. “How do you know my name?” Shaking her head, acknowledging the more important questions that should be spoken, Alya tried again. “What the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

Flashing toward the akuma board, the fox clicked her tongue. “We have to work on that language. Heroes don’t just save the world, they are role models too.” Flashing around the board, pausing at each picture, the purple eyes finally returned to Alya. “All this work and you don’t know who I am? Tsk, tsk, and they told me you were the smart one.”

“Excuse you?!” Alya was quick to recover from her shock, a reaction mostly to be insulted by the sarcastic intruder. “Who told you anything about me?” Alya stood, hands on her hips. The same pose reflected back at her in the form of a tiny orange fox. An outsider would notice how perfectly matched the two seemed to be, strong-will wrapped around them like armor. Alya, however, was too busy surveying the judgmental little creature that had invaded her space.

“The guardian, of course,” flicking her tail, the fox shrugged as if the information was obvious, “so do you stalk these people or something?” Flipping through the air, she came nose to nose with the picture of Ladybug, making a noise that Alya couldn’t interrupt.

Alya took a deep breath, pushing her hands forward to calm herself, “maybe, before you keep asking questions, you could tell me your name. You have a name, right?”

“Trixx.” It was thrown over her shoulder without Trixx turning around to acknowledge Alya’s approaching figure.

Taking a place next to Trixx, Alya studied her, noting the orange and white fur with hints of pink fading into the white portion. The little fox was very pretty, and seemed to wear her sass like a badge of honor. It was certainly a trait Alya could respect. “Ok Trixx, what are you?”

The eye roll was impossibly big for a being so small. “Who am I? I’m not a what. I’m alive, you know.” Trixx’s eyes narrowed at a picture of Adrien, pinned closely to a picture of Cat Noir. “These two are very young, younger than the ones before them, this I am sure of.”

Her voice wasn’t loud enough to be considered as speaking to Alya, but the volume was high enough that Alya couldn’t ignore the statement, thoughts irritatingly twitching without resolution. “Ones before them? So it is true,” Alya began to pace, “there were teams before the one who operates now in Paris. Have they always been in Paris?”

There was a pause as Trixx’s ears twitched. “We are getting off course,” she waved her hands in the air, focusing on Alya instead of the red-yarned pictures. “Let’s start over. I’m Trixx. I’m your kwami. Together, we are going to make you a superhero!” The last part was accented by a tiny black fist punching into the air. “Now where is the miraculous?” An impossibly fast orange streak flew by Alya’s face, dive bombing the floor. Alya watched in fascination as tiny hands retrieved a black box, depositing in Alya’s hands for inspection. “There, you have to wear that. That’s your miraculous. When you transform, I’ll jump inside it and bam! You’re a superhero!”

There was that word again. _Superhero._ It was everything Alya had ever dreamed of since she was a little girl. Providing justice in an unjust world, seeking vengeance for those unable to seek it for themselves, and protecting the innocent from harm. Dozens of superhero taglines ran through her head as Alya lifted the necklace from the box clasping it around her neck. There was a tinge of familiarity that brought Alya back to her pinned pictures, studying each one trying to place why the necklace was tickling the memory bank in her brain. Reaching the picture of akumatized Volpina, Alya gasped, lifting the necklace to directly compare it to the one around Volpina’s neck.

“Weird,” Trixx said, moving in front of Alya, blocking the human’s view, while curious kwami eyes darted over the picture. “Who is this? The costume is similar, but very different.”

“That’s Volpina. A girl named Lila was akumatized by Hawkmoth and that’s what she looked like.” Alya couldn’t believe the similarities between Lila’s akumatized necklace and the one around Alya’s neck. It was an odd and uneasy feeling, stirring in the pit of Alya’s stomach, urging her to put pieces together that she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Even weirder,” Trixx paused a moment more before shaking her heads, ears twitching, as she turned back to Alya. “Should we practice transforming and detransforming? You’ll need to meet your new teammates, but one round of practice won’t hurt and then I’ll explain a few more things. It will make more sense when I explain them if you have already seen yourself in costume.”

 _Costume._ Alya had always prided herself at being the smartest and intellectually fastest person she knew. Thank goodness no one was around to see her now as her mind stuttered at each new revelation. Faking confidence, Alya squared her shoulders, “so, what do I do?”

Trixx’s tail flicked quickly underneath her, “say fox in the hen house and you’ll transform. Pretty easy.” A smile ticked at the edge of the kwami’s lips, but she placed a small black hand over her mouth.

Uncertain, Alya stepped back, waving a hand above her head and proudly calling, “fox in the hen house!”

Nothing happened.

Trixx roared with laughter, flopping onto Alya’s bed, little arms wrapped around her belly, feet kicking in the air as she howled at the joke she made at Alya’s expense.

Alya huffed. She should have known better than to blindly trust a fox, especially a magical one. “Ha… ha… you’ve had your fun, but this really isn’t getting us anywhere.” It was exciting to think of herself as a superhero and Alya was divided between wanting to see herself in costume immediately, and wishing her kwami would take the job more seriously.

Finally settling, Trixx sat up, tears still winking at her eyes spurred by her own humor. “Alright, for real this time, say _ears up_ ,” holding up her hands in surrender, Trixx crossed her legs in the middle of the bed, “I swear! I’m ready when you are.”

Taking a deep breath, Alya muttered the words, gasping loudly as her body was whisked into her transformation.

* * *

 

 _Freedom_. Freedom was the main feeling coursing through Volpina’s body as she chased her shadow over the skyline of Paris. The sped should have left her feeling wind burned, instead her skin prickled with delight as she moved. Buildings and people whisked beneath her, distorted colors creating a chaotic tapestry which would not support her if she fell. It was exhilarating and terrifying, all in the same breath.

The suit was sleek, clinging tightly to her body, leaving no curve unpronounced. Standing in front of her mirror, she had wondered briefly if Ladybug ever had reservations about how tight the magical fabric gripped her frame, eyes lingering on the lines of her own hips now accented in orange and black. As she made her way through town, she understood the need for the tight fit, acknowledging that loose fabric would have been incredibly dangerous. Tail twitching behind her, she finally came to rest on the elevated platform of a building a mere flash away from her destination.

Her chest heaved, not from exertion but from excitement, as she stood overlooking the stadium. Her heroes waited inside the roofless structure; they waited for her to join them, to become a part of the team that would protect Paris from this day forth. Attempting to steady herself, she twirled her flute in her hand, spastically jumping when she almost dropped it from her grasp. The time for stalling had passed, Volpina pulling herself into perfect posture, internal monologue telling her she could handle this; if she could only remember to breathe.

With a lingering smile, Volpina stuffed her insecurities into a cerebral box and leaped from the rooftop.


End file.
